6-27–My fears have been alleviated. Last night we all slept well in our first night in the tent and the kids next door didn’t wake us up too early. Thanks God for air mattresses! The weather here is perfect, with a slight breeze off the ocean, warm sun and no rain in sight.

We set off by about 10:30 for the small town of Tolosa, about a half hour inland, where we heard there were festivities and a family connection (I’ll explain that later). The town was packed with people. In addition to being a market day, as it was Saturday, today was the day of the jovenes (young people). All up and down the narrow streets were groups of kids dressed in matching T-shirts. Apparently these are clubs. There was a band playing in the old town square. We walked a little further and saw a surprising sight–people dressed like giants with scary faces were chasing young children and hitting them with a balloon-like bag. The bag made a huge popping sound on contact but it didn’t look like it hurt very much. Every time one of the giants would approach a group of kids, the kids would squeal with laughter and run away. We learned later that this is a tradition meant to “scare away” bad children from the village but now it continues as a form of entertainment. There were also large giants dressed as royalty and later on they danced through the streets spinning around. We couldn’t figure out how the people inside these enormous costumes could spin so well. More bands with drums and accordians flowed through the streets and people of all ages were enjoying free-flowing beer and vino. We wondered if the tables of beer in the main plaza were just for locals or for everyone. We weren’t brave enough to ask.

Around 1 p.m. we decided to take a little break from Tolosa and drive over the mountains to visit Peter’s ancestral village, Labeaga. We visited once 20 years ago and found that it was a tiny pueblo of about five houses and a few barking dogs. Probably it hadn’t changed much. The drive itself was a treat. The road was narrow, filled with switchbacks, and around every turn was a beautiful view of lush green forests and fields. We passed several fields of grazing horses and cows, everything looking like a postcard. At one point we came to a large plateau, probably created by some receeding glaciars thousands of years ago. Finally after about an hour and a half we descended into the town of Estella, which Peter and I stayed in 20 years ago, and we stopped to have lunch. We asked some old men in the bar if they knew where Labeaga was and they laughed: “It’s close to here,” they said, “as long as everyone hasn’t died yet.” Indeed, the town was only about five minutes away and still had the same five houses and barking dogs. We got out briefly to take a few requisite photos in front of the large sign with our last name. One man peered out of his house to examine us, but he didn’t approach us. His dog barked. Other than that the town was quiet and tranquil, surrounded by fields of softly blowing wheat. The closest large city is Pamplona, home of the famous running of the bulls but probably no one who visits Pamplona ever makes it this far. Twenty years ago we saw the running of the bulls and we even met some Labeagas. We weren’t sure exactly how they were related but they were definitely cousins of some sort.

Leaving Labeaga we headed back to Tolosa for a 6 p.m. tour of the Gorrotxategi chocolate museum. Sometime in the late 1700s Peter’s great-great-great-grandfather Jose Antiono Labeaga married into the family of the Gorrotxategis. Since the 1930s the Gorrotxategis have run a famous chocolate company with a store and museum in Tolosa. They sell their line of gourmet chocolates at upscale stores all over Spain. We enjoyed a nice tour of their museum, which had an assortment of old chocolate-making machines, and then sampled some delicious hot chocolate at their shop 

We discovered the Gorrotxategi connection four years ago when researching Peter’s roots. At that time we had only traced the family tree back to his great-great grandfather, Jose Vicente, and we knew he had been an important person in the little town of Urretxu, which is not too far from Tolosa. In fact, his portrait hangs in Urretxu’s town hall because after emigrating to the U.S. sometime in the 1800s, he sent money back to the town yearly to support a school for girls. Four years ago we saw all of Jose Vicente’s letters that accompanied his money, which are carefully archived in the town records. In the letters he recounts his life in the New World in beautiful flowing script. It was amazing to step back in time and see these intimate thoughts from a family member! The town archivist was thrilled to meet us and filled us in on all his knew about the Labeagas, including the connection with the Gorrotxategis. We promised the archivist we’d keep in touch and he would update us on any further discovories.

Our night ended with some tapas with Ana, a friend of our nephew Jake. Ana was Jake’s nanny for three months two years ago, and thanks to Facebook, we easily got in touch with her. We met Ana and her parents and had some delicious croquetas and a couple of cervezas–the end to a very full day.          .  
 
6-28–As I mentioned in an earlier post, campsites in Europe are outfitted with most modern conveniences, like stores, hot showers and restaurants. Most also have laundry facilities. Today we took advantage of the washing machines and did a few loads of laundry. They even had a drier, which most Europeans don’t own at home, and this sped up the process considerably. 

Campsites here are a real melting pot of European culture. There are many Danes, a lot of Spanairds of course, a few Brits and French, and a very few Americans. It’s interesting to walk through the campground and see the variety of tents and campers people use. Some have basic tents like us; others have elaborate RV setups with screened in rooms and sometimes a whole separate little structure for cooking. VW campervans are also very popular. There are a mixture of retirees, families and young backpackers. The day we arrived here was a Friday and the campground was especially full since it was a weekend. When I went to use the bathrrom Friday night it was packed with teenage girls fixing their hair and makeup to go out to town. As I write this now, on Sunday, the mood is much more subdued. Many have packed up to go home. 

We had a choice today between going to San Sebastian, where in the past we’ve had the best tapas in all of Spain, or to a new town we’ve never seen that was recommended by Peter’s cousin Linda. We decided to explore the new town, called Hondarribia. Hondarribia is on the coast right on the border of France and Spain. It is about 20 minutes north of our campground. Besides a beautiful harbor, it has a wall from Roman times and a well-preserved old section. We splurged on a big lunch at a restaurant overlooking the harbor, had some ice cream at an heladeria, and then strolled around the old section. I took a lot of pictures of the quaint, older houses, which looked like something out of a fairytale, and got a lot of grief from the boys. “Put away the camera Mom,” they said.

Back at the campsite, Peter and I took a walk from the campground, which is on a bluff overlooking the ocean, into the town of Zarautz. We got into town around 8:00, the time when many Spainards are out taking their evening stroll. It stays light here until 10:30 so evenings are long and relaxed. We passed by young people and old people, most speaking Basque. The Basque language has experienced somewhat of a resurgence in recent years, and it is the primary language taught in schools here. It is totally unrelated to Spanish or any other language in the world, though it does borrow some words from Spanish. Fortunately all Basque speakers also speak Spanish, so there’s no trouble communicating. We did learn two Basque words while we were here: hello is “caixo” and thank you is eskerrik asko. We had a late night dinner around 10, a huge racion of jamon and a tortilla de bacalao–a fitting last meal as we leave Spain tomorrow for a week in France and Switzerland.                   .

6/25–Today was a day of travel and readjusting to a new place. After a week in Madrid, we packed up and drove to the northern coast, with a short detour to see the university town of Salamanca. The week in Madrid, filled with social gatherings, flew by, especially when I compare it to our stay before, which lasted a whole year. I wish I had more time. But we love the north, with its beautiful beaches, green mountains and wonderful cuisine, so here we are. 

We are fortunate to once again stay in a house instead of a hotel. Our Madrid house exchange family owns a second apartment here in Santander so we have a nice place to stay. It is only about a 15-minute walk to the beach and shops. Our exchange family has relatives here too so we received a nice invitation to their house for dinner tomorrow night. These relatives actually stayed in our house for a few weeks in California the year we were in Madrid. In addition, we saw this family four years ago when we were here before and together in their apartment we watched Spain win the World Cup. That was a memorable night, with dancing and fireworks in the streets until 2 am. At that time, it seemed that everyone in Santander was flying a Spanish flag in their window. The people here said they’d never seen such patriotism. 

Traveling with teenagers, ages 17 and 14, definitely has its challenges and we felt those quite intensely today. Teenagers have opinions, and lots of them. Today, for example, they both complained loudly about having to stop in Salamanca. The stop would add about two hours total to our travel time. Peter and I were interested in seeing Salamanca, which has the oldest university in Spain (established in the 13th century) and the biggest plaza. The boys, though, have little interest in historical sites, and preferred to just get to their destination. They protested and said they would just stay in the car during our stop, which of course was silly. Then, when we sat down to eat our lunch, they insisted they would just sit there while we explored the city. Of course they came with us in the end. As it turned out, we had a lovely lunch and we were able to see the main square, cathedral and university in a short time. We even found the famous astronaut everyone says you must see. It is a tiny astronaut carved into the cathedral facade by an enterprising stoneworker who helped renovate the building 20 years ago. 

Our teenagers’ desire for wifi connections also drives a big part of our agenda. No sooner had we rolled our suitcases into our new house than the boys started searching for wifi. The house had no server so they tried to get on other servers in the area. When that didn’t work they begged us to buy the $10 a day service they found. We broke down (we wanted it too) and they spent the rest of the evening chatting with friends and watching videos. Exploring Santander would have to wait, but it was late anyway. Fortunately I had packed some Top Ramen in our suitcases so we had an instant dinner and didn’t have to go out. 

We heard a little about Miguel’s party last night. He attended the school’s end-of-the-year party and saw many old friends. The funny part was that he didn’t recognize many of the kids. They have changed a lot in four years; most, though, remember him. He was the famous Californiano, the only one they’ve ever met. A lot of them last night asked him to say some things in English just so they could hear a real American accent. Evidently he was swarmed by girls, just like he was four years ago. His friend Gonzalo referred to the girls as “the mafia.” I’m sure Miguel didn’t mind the mafia too much–on the other hand it might have brought back bad memories. Four years ago a girl one grade older than Miguel became obsessed with him. She had an American stepmom and spoke some English so she could communicate with him easily. She pursued him every day on the playground, asking him to be her boyfriend. He kept saying no but got worn down. He didn’t really want a girlfriend but he did like having a friend who spoke English and she was cute. Finally he agreed to be her boyfriend. She monopolized all his time and we were worried he wasn’t making any other friends. Pretty soon we got reports from Miguel’s little brother Thomas that Miguel and his girlfriend were kissing under the stairs during lunch hour. I got more and more worried by the day about this blossoming romance of my almost 13-year-old. I’ll save the rest of the story for another day though. Now it’s late and my goal is to make it to bed before 2 am. One of these days we’ll get on the right time. 

6/26–We woke up to sunny skies in Santander this morning. Evidently we were lucky. We thought it was always nice here but the locals tell us their are many gray, windy days. We are on the “green coast” of Spain after all, where it rains all year round. The terrain looks more like a mini Switzerland than what you would imagine as Spain. We took advantage of the warm weather to go to the beach, which was packed with people by the time we arrived around 1 p.m. The beach here has an elegant feel to it, as it’s lined with a long promenade dotted with restaurant terraces. At the far end of the beach are a few upscale hotels catering to both Spainards and other Europeans. Some cruise ships stop here, including a regular one from England, a 22-hour journey, according to the waiter who served us at lunch. “There are too many English here,” he grumbled. With the warm sun and the sound of the crashing waves, I entered a sort of beta state at the beach. I don’t remember the last time I’ve been so relaxed. After a few hours of sun, we moved to a restaurant terrace for a long comida. I had fried zuchinni for my primer plato and croquettas stuffed with fish and cheese for my segundo. All the lunch specials come with your choice of wine, beer or bottled water. I chose the wine. They also include a dessert, which is usually an ice cream, flan or piece of fresh fruit. I had an orange, which arrived on a little plate with a fork and a knife. I just peeled it with my hands. 

Antonio and Remy, our exchange family’s relatives here, invited us for dinner at their place, which is a snug little townhouse close to the beach. If you live in a townhouse or single-family house here it is called a chalet. If you live in an apartment you refer to the building as an urbanizacion. Almost everyone here lives in an urbanizacion, even in small towns or suburbs. Space here is at a premium compared to the United States. 

Remy had set a beautiful table for us, with pretty china and a lace tablecloth. Three plates of jamon, two plates of cheese and some bread lined the table. Plus there was a bottle of our favorite cava, Juve y Camps. Aproveche! The second course was bonita, tuna, in a mild tomato sace, followed by the famous Regma ice cream. Over dinner we talked about many things. Many Spainards are curious about the American presidential elections and want to know what we think of Hilary Clinton and Jeb Bush. They tell us a little about their political landscape, including the recent elections of many extreme leftist candidates, and the continuing saga of the Catalans who want independence from Spain. We also talk about the prevalance of guns in America and the recent shooting in South Carolina. They ask us if we know anyone who owns a gun. We don’t, but Peter points out that the average American owns several. That means that some people own none and some own a dozen or more. They gasp. As we start dessert Antonio and Remy’s 20-year-old son arrives. He is a beefy rugby player and has just arrived from practice. We are amazed as he quickly downs five pieces of tuna plus some jamon. We all laugh. Between our faltering Spanish and their rudimentary English we can communicate pretty well. We finally get up from the table around midnight. 

Last time we were in this area we visited Los Picos de Europa, a set of jagged, picturesque peaks. We took a tram high up the mountainside, to the peak of Fuente De. Our trusty guidebook go-to, Rick Steves, said there was a marvelous hike down the mountain, so off we went. Unfortunately the hike took several hours longer than advertised. We barely made it back to our car by sunset, which is saying a lot as the sun sets here very late. To motivate the kids we pretended we were on the set of “Man Meets Wild.” Seeing a slimy slug on the ground Peter lifted it to his mouth: “And now, Peter will eat this live slug to increase his protein level.” We got a few annoyed laughs; we were all pretty fried the last hour or so. However, this hike became one of our favorite memories of our whole year in Spain and we were all a little sad we didn’t have the time to do it again this time. 

6-27–Perhaps the only downside to doing a house exchange is having to close up the house at the end of a stay. After only two days in Santander it was time to leave, but we couldn’t just check out. We had to strip our sheets, clean up the kitchen, empty the garbage and turn off the gas. It’s a little extra work, but definitely worth the effort. By mid-morning we were off to the Basque region about two hours north of Santander. 

We received some good news today. Last time we were in Spain we discovered that Peter’s family, whose roots are in the Basque country, has connections to the owners of a gourmet chocolate company. We didn’t have time to visit the company last time but it was high on our agenda as we planned this trip. A year ago some cousins of Peter visited the company and got a great tour of their chocolate museum and even met one of the owners, a very distant relation. Today we called the company and found out that we could get a tour of their museum (explaining the chocolate-making process) on Saturday and even better, the town where they are located would be celebrated their annual saint’s day. There would be a special market and local entertainment. We were very lucky to arrive on this day, the chocolate company representative told us.

Our other big accomplishment today was setting up our tent. At the end of our year here four years ago we left all our camping supplies in a friend’s garage. We weren’t really sure all of our stuff survived intact, but it did. We are camping in a beautiful campground, on some hills overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. You might pay hundreds of dollars for a hotel here at a spot like this but our nightly fee is about $30. 

We got hooked on camping in Europe 20 years ago, before we had kids. Peter and I traveled through Europe for two months and camped to save money. We found it was a great way to travel. The campsites were well-kept and clean, many equipped with stores, restaurants, bathrooms and sometimes swimming pools. Most of the travelers were families from Europe and we felt safe leaving our stuff in our tent while we would spend the day sightseeing in nearby towns. 

We’ll see how well we sleep on the ground tonight. I’m most worried about the fact that next door to us is a British family with two young and rather loud kids who went to bed at 7:30. Just our luck they’ll be up at 6 running around our tent. Ah well, at least we’ll be up into for tomorrow’s market. 

6/25–Today was a day of travel and readjusting to a new place. After a week in Madrid, we packed up and drove to the northern coast, with a short detour to see the university town of Salamanca. The week in Madrid, filled with social gatherings, flew by, especially when I compare it to our stay before, which lasted a whole year. I wish I had more time. But we love the north, with its beautiful beaches, green mountains and wonderful cuisine, so here we are. 

We are fortunate to once again stay in a house instead of a hotel. Our Madrid house exchange family owns a second apartment here in Santander so we have a nice place to stay. It is only about a 15-minute walk to the beach and shops. Our exchange family has relatives here too so we received a nice invitation to their house for dinner tomorrow night. These relatives actually stayed in our house for a few weeks in California the year we were in Madrid. In addition, we saw this family four years ago when we were here before and together in their apartment we watched Spain win the World Cup. That was a memorable night, with dancing and fireworks in the streets until 2 am. At that time, it seemed that everyone in Santander was flying a Spanish flag in their window. The people here said they’d never seen such patriotism. 

Traveling with teenagers, ages 17 and 14, definitely has its challenges and we felt those quite intensely today. Teenagers have opinions, and lots of them. Today, for example, they both complained loudly about having to stop in Salamanca. The stop would add about two hours total to our travel time. Peter and I were interested in seeing Salamanca, which has the oldest university in Spain (established in the 13th century) and the biggest plaza. The boys, though, have little interest in historical sites, and preferred to just get to their destination. They protested and said they would just stay in the car during our stop, which of course was silly. Then, when we sat down to eat our lunch, they insisted they would just sit there while we explored the city. Of course they came with us in the end. As it turned out, we had a lovely lunch and we were able to see the main square, cathedral and university in a short time. We even found the famous astronaut everyone says you must see. It is a tiny astronaut carved into the cathedral facade by an enterprising stoneworker who helped renovate the building 20 years ago. 

Our teenagers’ desire for wifi connections also drives a big part of our agenda. No sooner had we rolled our suitcases into our new house than the boys started searching for wifi. The house had no server so they tried to get on other servers in the area. When that didn’t work they begged us to buy the $10 a day service they found. We broke down (we wanted it too) and they spent the rest of the evening chatting with friends and watching videos. Exploring Santander would have to wait, but it was late anyway. Fortunately I had packed some Top Ramen in our suitcases so we had an instant dinner and didn’t have to go out. 

We heard a little about Miguel’s party last night. He attended the school’s end-of-the-year party and saw many old friends. The funny part was that he didn’t recognize many of the kids. They have changed a lot in four years; most, though, remember him. He was the famous Californiano, the only one they’ve ever met. A lot of them last night asked him to say some things in English just so they could hear a real American accent. Evidently he was swarmed by girls, just like he was four years ago. His friend Gonzalo referred to the girls as “the mafia.” I’m sure Miguel didn’t mind the mafia too much–on the other hand it might have brought back bad memories. Four years ago a girl one grade older than Miguel became obsessed with him. She had an American stepmom and spoke some English so she could communicate with him easily. She pursued him every day on the playground, asking him to be her boyfriend. He kept saying no but got worn down. He didn’t really want a girlfriend but he did like having a friend who spoke English and she was cute. Finally he agreed to be her boyfriend. She monopolized all his time and we were worried he wasn’t making any other friends. Pretty soon we got reports from Miguel’s little brother Thomas that Miguel and his girlfriend were kissing under the stairs during lunch hour. I got more and more worried by the day about this blossoming romance of my almost 13-year-old. I’ll save the rest of the story for another day though. Now it’s late and my goal is to make it to bed before 2 am. One of these days we’ll get on the right time. 

6-24–Ah…today a refreshing rain came to Madrid and cooled us off. The last two days have been really hot and even with the air conditioning the house feels barely tolerable. Last night I was sweating in bed as I tried to fall asleep at 2 am. But the rain changed all that. It is much cooler tonight and the air blowing through windows of our fifth floor bedrooms feels magical.

When we came to Madrid four years ago we arrived on July 8, at the beginning of the hottest time of the year. It can get up to 100 degrees regularly in July and August and it is just about impossible to do anything in the middle of the day. We didn’t really understand this at first and packed our day full of activities. There was so much to see–the parks, the churches, the Royal Palace, the museums. Many of those first afternoons I remember just about dying from heat exhaustion as we walked through Parque Retiro or along the long boulevards of the Grand Via. After every block we would stop and rest and take a swig from our huge 2-liter bottle of water. We hadn’t learned yet the necessity of the siesta. Locals on vacation here get out for a few hours in the morning, rest or have lunch from 1 to 5 and then slowly make their way out for later afternoon/evening activities. Besides avoiding the heat, the siesta allows you to stay up later and take advantage of the long warm nights (the sun doesn’t set until 10:00). In fact the city really comes alive at night. Everyone is out taking a paseo or watching others take one. 

One thing we did understand about the weather four years ago was the necessity to take some breaks and get out of town. We knew being in 100-degree weather week after week would be difficult, so we did what a lot of locals do, go to the coast. In our case that was the northern coast, Santander. This is where our exchange family owns a vacation home and where they escape from Madrid heat each summer. The temperatures here are much cooler, but still warm enough to swim and play at the beach. This time around, we will also go to Santander for a few days and then up to San Sebastian in the Basque Country. 

Today’s highlight of the day was going downtown for churros. We do have churros in the States but they don’t resemble the ones here at all. The churros here, especially those from one of the well-known churrerias, are made to order, and are just the right balance of crispiness on the outside and tenderness on the inside. They are served with extra thick warm chocolate for dipping. After getting our fill of churros, we walked through Plaza Mayor, a beautiful old plaza in the center of town, and then sat down for a jarra of beer and some people watching. Afterwards I attempted to buy some new alpargatas, or espadrilles, at a famous shoe store next to the plaza, but it was swarmed with a tourist group. It’s amazing how much English you hear at this time of year in central Madrid. In contrast, you hear no English in the neighborhood where our exchange family lives. 

Since arriving we’ve satisfied many of our Spanish antejos (cravings). Besides churros, we’ve had Aquarius (a fizzy lemon drink) and Kinderbuenos (chocolate bars). Still on the list are Chupachus (Spanish suckers) and Cola Cao (hot cocoa). We also look forward to going to our neighbhorhood bakery and ordering some pepitos (cream-filled pastries). It’s amazing how many things you find to enjoy when visiting a new place.

During our year abroad we also had many antejos for American treats we couldn’t find here. The top of the list was probably chocolate chip cookies. After that was American cereals (stores here only carry three or four varieties), good Chinese food and good Mexican food. Early on we found The American Store, located in a swanky part of town, which sells high-priced American products. We made several trips during the year and delighted our friends with homemade chocolate chip cookies to celebrate the kids’ birthdays and pumpkin pie for Thanksgiving. 

Last night friends Eduardo and Elisa came to dinner at our house and we made them a typical American meal–burritos with all the fixings (I had brought the tortillas and salsa in my suitcase). I think they liked them. We met Eduardo and Elisa because they know our house exchange family and like our exchange family, they also spent a year in Berkeley. (Eduardo is a professor here and taught at UC Berkeley in 2009.) When we arrived in Madrid in 2010, Eduardo took it upon himself to be our personal guide and showed us many things. He even ended up fixing a few things in our house. They are a family with a big heart. One of our favorite memories together is going to see a performance of Mama Mia–all the same tunes, but with Spanish words. After the show was over, we wandered down a side street and happened to pass by the stage door. We saw a group of people huddled around the sidewalk and realized that the performers were leaving. In the confusion of the crowd, several older women rushed at Peter and asked for his autograph and picture! They thought he had been in the show! He was quite flattered; he happens to be an ABBA fanatic. 

Tomorrow we are off to Santander and the northern coast. We will pack up our home exchange family’s SVU with our stuff, including our three bags of camping supplies. We’ll stay in their home in Santander and then camp for several days further north. We look forward to that. You feel like a full-fledged European when you are camping here–there are very few Americans at the camp sites. And it’s a very social activity. The camp sites are like KOA campsites back home–outfitted with pools, stores and restaurants so there are many chances to observe and interact with others. Before leaving on this trip I reread a journal I kept when we camped here 20 years ago and I laughed at my observations of the other campers, the Dutch, the Germans, the Spanish. I’m sure this experience will be just as entertaining. I just hope my older body can endure sleeping on the ground.

Spainards really know how to enjoy themselves. Today we went with friends to the famous Rastro flea market in the morning and then for lunch we went to not just one restaurant but three! Evidently each had something different to offer. It was a hot day and our first stop was to get some cold drinks on the terrace of a cafe. Peter and I order cervazas con limon, a mixture of beer and lemonade, which was very refreshing. Para picar (to taste), our group shared an order of sliced jamon and fried calamaris. While we were still finishing at that spot our friend Manu walked over to another cafe a few blocks away that serves tapas tipicas and secured us a spot in the cool air conditioned bar. We joined him and had more drinks and two plates of huevos estrelladas–fried eggs on top of potato chips, chorizo and gazpacho–quite a combination. Plus we had a salad of tuna and tomatoes. Finally we walked past the Royal Palace and found a cafe with a terrace overlooking the city. I had a horchata, a drink made with almonds, sugar and water. Miguel had the most interesting dessert, a lemon sorbet served inside of a scooped out lemon. The scooped out lemon was frozen and sat on top of a glass of hot water, the water helping to soften the sorbet inside. We were so tired from all our food we had to take a siesta, of course!

The Rastro was just as we remembered. It is a huge flea market spread out over many city blocks. You can find everything from new and old clothing to typewriters, LPs, comic books and just about anything else you can think of. It takes place every Sunday in an old neighborhood called La Latina. We learned four years ago that rastro means “trail.” In this case it was the trail of blood of butchered animals. Many years ago butchers worked in this neighbhorhood and blood would run down the main street. There aren’t any butchers these days but they’ve been replaced by pickpockets. We were told to be careful not to carry anything in our pockets and watch our purses. Unfortunately I have experience with this topic. Four years ago not far from this spot my wallet was taken from my purse by some stealthy ladron. I lost some cash, my California driver’s licence and all my credit cards. I made a report at the nearest police station and just in the short time while I was there five other people came in to report robberies! Then I had the hassle of having to cancel all my cards. I couldn’t get another driver’s license for a year, until I returned to California. Sadly, though the rate of street violence is pretty low here, this type of robbery happens all the time. Even today we saw a man running down the street yelling “ladron.”

Back at our apartment after our many lunch stops, we turned up the AC a bit and enjoyed a nice siesta. Somehow the hours flew by and it was already 9:30, time for a light snack, so we ventured out to the neighborhood bar that serves raciones, large platters of tapas. About a third of the raciones were things we recognized and like (such as ham and shrimp), a third were things we don’t like (like octopus and pig’s ears) and a third were things we didn’t reognize at all. Feeling a little brave, we ordered one racion we knew (patatas bravas–potatoes with red sauce) and one that we didn’t know but was suggested by the waiter–torreznos. It turned out that torreznos are basically pork rinds. They were terrible–chewy, super salty and fatty. Most of the plate went untouched. Sometimes you are lucky, sometimes not. 

Our Spanish is coming back poco a poco, little by little. Four years ago we reached a pretty good level of fluency by the end of the year. We have retained much of that but it’s still difficult to convey more complicated thoughts. I find myself often wanting to say certain things but pausing and choosing another topic because I don’t know how to express it. Fortunately all our friends here are very gracious and often finish sentences for us! I also find that words are only half of communication. How you say things and your actions and body language speak volumes. Thus, despite the language barrier we have a very sweet relationship with many people here. We can see they have been geniunely excited to see us again after four years. There is almost nothing quite as satisfying as rekindling friendships with people across the globe. You realize that people everyone are really very similar and that there is much more good in the world than watching the news might led you to believe. 
 

6/21–It’s 1:15 am and we’ve just said goodbye to friends Paloma and Manu after another late-night Spanish-style dinner. Tonight we went to our favorite restaurant here, which, ironically, isn’t even Spanish–they serve Italian food. Sadly though, four years later the staff has totally changed, including the manager we liked so much, Pablo, who was from Uruguay but had trained in restaurants around the world. The food is still good, but not the same outstandinng quality as before. Oh well, the experience will live on in our memories. 

We still didn’t make it to the city center today. Our time was spent running errands. First we went to the packaging store (it was open this time) and got a box for our two chairs. That was a pretty easy process. Next we had to go to the local shopping center to buy new clothes for Peter. His suitcase still hadn’t shown up after three days and he was getting pretty tired of wearing the same clothes. So we went to a store called Carrefour that is much like an American Target, with stylish, economical clothes, and we bought him a whole new wardrobe, plus a new suitcase. It’s funny but the first time I went to Carrefour four years ago I was so disappointed. It felt so American–big, modern, impersonal. In my mind Europe still operated only small family-run business in quaint little shops. Going to Carrefour felt like I could be shopping anywhere in the world. This time around, though, I knew what I was getting and was actually thankful for the convenience of a store that had all we needed in one place for a good price. It’s funny how your perspective changes. I also remember feeling disappointed four years ago on realizing that many people in Spain now shop at large grocery stores, much like our Safeways. I thought people here still went to a separate butcher, baker, fruit store, fish market, etc. While that can be the case for some people here, large America-style stores are everywhere. 

Back at home after our shopping excursion we finally got a call from the airlines. They had found Peter’s suitcase and would deliver it tomorrow! La ley de Murphy! Murphy’s law. (They really do say “La ley de Murphy” here!) Now Peter will have the most extensive wardrobe of any of us, thanks to a claim with Iberia Airlines. We’ll keep the new clothes but give the suitcase to a friend. When we told our friend about the suitcase it reminded Peter of our English expression, “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.” It turns out that the Spanish have the same expression: “A caballo regalado, no le mires el diente.” We never really understood where this saying came from but our friend explained that when you buy a horse you should look at its teeth to determine if it’s healthy or not. Thus, when you are receiving a gift, you shouldn’t look too closely and should just be grateful for whatever you get.

We invited our friends back to our house for some American chocolate chip cookies, which they loved, and we picked up Miguel, who had gone out with his friends. It turned out they had gone to the local “Burger” (Burger King) to hang out. Many friends from his old class came by to say hello. Some he remembered; others not. Four years is a long time in the life of a young person. 

One thing that hasn’t changed here is the summer bullfights on TV. We flipped on the TV today and were mesmerized (for a while, until it got bloody) by a bullfight. Despite the violence, there is a certain grace to the way the matador swings his colorful cape and dances around the bull. At one point the matador was tossed up into the air and crashed to the ground. He got up right away and continued pursuing the bull. It’s true that bullfighting is controversial here in Spain and has even been prohibited in Barcelona. However, there are still many afficionados. The most famous event, the San Fermines running of the bulls in Pamplona, will be taking place during our last days here in Spain and we are thinking about going. Our friend Joaquin, who owns the house where we are staying, said this would be a big mistake. It’s crowded, people are drunk, many are sleeping and peeing in the streets, etc. It’s much better to watch on TV, he said. Probably for us it would be like someone going to Times Square for New Year’s Eve. It’s crowded and uncomfortable. Why not watch it on TV? Still, there’s a certain thrill in being part of these national events. At the very least, it makes for a good story. How many people can say they’ve been to the San Fermines? Vamos a ver…we have a few weeks to decide for sure.  

6/20-If there’s one thing I learned from my year in Spain it’s not to expect to accomplish too much in any one day. This was a hard lesson to learn as an American; it’s in my blood to expect things to work smoothly and quickly. Here, though, relationships are valued more than getting things done. Thus, many businesses close for the siesta, meals are longer and more leisurely, and day-to-day tasks take a little longer. 

Our family learned this lesson soon after we came as we tried to obtain our one-year residence cards. In order to live in Spain legally for more than three months, we were required to obtain residence cards. In the months leading up to our departure we filled out countless forms, got notarized copies of birth and marriage certificates, and got proof of our bank accounts and jobs. This all culminated in an official interview with the Spanish embassy in San Francisco. We did so much paperwork in California that we thought that once we arrived in Spain it would be a simple matter of visiting a government office in Madrid and completing the process. If it were only that simple. As it turned out we had to visit seven separate offices around Madrid in order to receive our cards. We arrived in July and finally got the cards in October! As they say here, there is much papeleo (paperwork). Throughout our year we had more experiences like this when we went to the post office, tried to pay a traffic fine or attempted to upgrade our internet service.

I kept all this in mind today as we planned our day. We put only one item on the agenda: find a way to ship two chairs we purchased four years ago back to the U.S. The chairs are simple wooden cafe-style chairs covered with maps of Spain. They are unique momentos of our time here. Four years ago we ran out of time to figure out how to ship them but this time we decided make the effort. One difference that helps us now is the growth of the internet. There is more information online. In the morning we were able to surf several web sites to research the costs of sending things to the U.S. and we discovered that FedEx and other international companies charged a premium, several hundered dollars for packages our size. It would cost as much to ship the chairs as we spent to buy them. We decided to go to the local post office and ask there. Maybe shipping them by slow boat would be cheaper. Of course, first we had to get to the post office. That sounds like a simple task but when you are in a big city and the roads are like a maze, some one-way, some dead-end, it’s a challenge even to find the local post office. Luckily we had walked there several times four years ago. This time we took the car and after a few attempts winding through the narrow streets, we made it there. We discovered, as expected, that the post office was a lot cheaper (and slower) than FedEx, and fortunately our chairs were under the maximum weight limit of 20 kilos. Next on the agenda was to find a big box in which to ship the chairs. Peter had found a packaging store not far from our house and we found it without much difficulty, thanks to the GPS in our car. The only problem was that the store was all boarded up. We called their number and got good news–the company still existed–the problem was that they had moved locations to a few miles away and they were closed for another hour due to the siesta. We could wait for an hour or just come back tomorrow. We decided to come back tomorrow–but I wasn’t disappointed. I felt like we had accomplished a lot for the day. 

By this time it was 5 o’clock, the ideal time to pass by our kids’ old school and look for old friends. School here begins at 9, breaks for two hours for lunch, and then continues until 5. We got lucky and found one of the teachers, Vanessa, exiting the school at 5. She was so surprised and excited to see us! We agreed to come back Monday with the kids. Next door to the school is a bar/cafe which is owned by the parents of one of our son’s friends, Pedro. We strolled over to the bar and found Pedro there, helping his parents at the bar, just like he was doing four years ago. He was also pleasantly surprised to see us and asked us to come back Monday with the boys.  

Our day ended with a typical Spanish dinner that started at 10:30 and ended at 12:30. Our exchange family brought wonderful Rioja wine, a special rosemary cheese, high-quality jamon serrano and a roscon, a bread and cheese sandwich that you heat in the oven. We supplied tortilla chips and guacamole, olives and salad. We ate on their large terrace overlooking the city. Even at 12:30 it was still pleasant enough to sit outside, something that would never happen in our foggy climate of San Francisco. Since it was Friday, people were still playing in the park below us when we packed up our dishes and headed inside. 

It’s strange to me that after two days we still haven’t made it to the old city center of Madrid. This is the only area that most Americans ever see. There are so many beautiful things there–the Parque Retiro, the Prado museum, the Plaza Mayor…I’m eager to visit the sights again but friends are definitely the priority on this return trip. 

6/18–Our first full day in Espana! Our sleep schedules are definitely mixed up. After our full day of travel, Thomas went to bed last night at 6 pm and woke up at 5 am. The rest of us were too excited to sleep so we didn’t get to bed until past 1 am and got up at 1 pm! I can’t remember the last time I slept so much. I woke up refreshed and ready to experience Madrid.

The big highlight today was seeing old friends. We had lunch with our friends Paloma and Manu and their three kids. We were supposed to meet at 1 but due to our sleep we didn’t meet them until 3. For them, that is only a slightly late lunch. Lunch here doesn’t begin until 1 at the earliest and is usually the biggest meal of the day. We all had the menu del dia, which consists of a primer (first) plate, a segundo (second) and a postre (dessert). I had a delicious risotto, chicken and watermelon for dessert. And of course we all had a Spanish beer. 

Paloma and Manu are just the same. So warm and friendly. I was impressed by their focus. Unlike many Americans I know (including me), they never checked their phones or their schedules but were fully immersed in our conversation. We talked about many things. It seems the economy here is still bad. The unemployment rate is nearly 25 percent. Many families at the private school (where we both had kids enrolled and where we met them) have had to pull their kids out of the school and send them to the public school. Manu and Paloma’s computer software business, which was slowing down four years ago, has not yet picked up. Maybe as a sign of the times, a new mayor was elected in Madrid just last week, and she is on the edge of being a communist.

After a 2-plus hour lunch, we strolled up the street to visit another family who we met through our kids four years ago. They also have three kids. In both cases the kids looked so different but the parents look just the same. We are still jovenes (young), we joked. Although it was 5 in the afternoon the parents were already home from work. Their workday is something Americans would envy. It starts early–at 8 am–but ends by 3. But Javier and Angeles are both government workers; not everyone enjoys this kind of schedule.    

As we both have kids nearing or in college, we talked a lot about the costs of college. The costs here are amazingly low. If you attend a public university in your “zone,” it is free. (I think we understood this correctly.) If you attend another public university outside your zone it is about $2,000 a year. The most exclusive private schools are at the most $20,000 a year. We couldn’t help but be jealous as we anticipate sending our son to college in a year at double or triple the cost. Another difference is that most college students here continue to live with their family until after college is over. So their 20-year-old daughter is still living at home.

After a nice visit, we went home to rest for a while and then joined Javier and Angeles and their kids for dinner at 9:30. Summertime dinners are bit magical here as it’s still quite light out at 9 or 10 and it’s always warm enough to sit outside. We ate on the terrace of the local pizzeria and ordered a pizza Spanish-style–with chorizo. Both here and at the lunch place our hosts knew plenty of people passing by. Although we are in a big city, this little neighborhood is like a small town. It’s not fancy and lacks the charm of the old parts of the city (everything here was built in the ’50s and ’60s as the city expanded), but the people are quite down-to-earth and gregarious.

Yesterday we discovered a great surprise–the chairs we bought at the famous Rastro flea market are still in our apartment! The chairs are simple wooden cafe-style chairs covered with colorful maps of Spain and then coated with shellac. We never got organized enough before to figure out a way to ship our chairs back home so we left them in the apartment. Fortunately our exchange family kept them and now we can make an attempt to find out a way to get them home.

Probably one of the biggest changes we’ve noticed from four years ago has to do with technology. At that time people were just starting to use smartphones. Now they are ubiquitous. Here in España, companies charge for texts so everyone uses an app called whatsapp to send texts. In general the same kinds of things are popular here as in the U.S., Facebook and Twitter for adults and Snapchat and Instagram for kids.

Tomorrow our only agenda is sending the chairs, a process that may be quite involved here. Our luck may be that we arrive at the shipping company during siesta time. We may also see some teachers at our kids’ old school and then have dinner with our exchange family. They promise to bring good wine–cheers to la vida española!